Chapter 23
JADE
Sitting next to my son on a swing that digs into my hips, I push off the ground and stick my legs out to drift in the breeze, just as I did as a child. The early afternoon sun warms my cheeks as I lean my head back and close my eyes, wishing life were far less complicated.
We need to talk, but I don’t know what to say. I need to apologize. Hell, I need to do a lot of things. This past year hasn’t been easy on him or anyone else. Now that we’re living on the compound and I’m married, Hunter’s life has taken an even wilder turn. Our life was never like this before.
“Soooo, I’m married now,” I sing awkwardly, staring at the fluffy clouds to avoid looking at my kid.
“Finally,” he grunts, sitting still on his swing.
I sputter.
Finally?
Finally?!
“What do you mean, finally?” I squeak, peeking at my son out of the corner of my eye as I drift back and forth beside him.
“It took you long enough.”
“Hunter.”
Shoulders hunched forward as if he’d rather be anywhere else than here talking to me, he shrugs. “What? Josh is my dad. Now it’s real.”
“So, you’re okay with all this?”
“I like it here. A lot. So yeah…” I barely catch his nod. “I’m okay with it.”
“It’s gonna be a few more weeks before we can go home.”
“Are you done trying to kill yourself? Are you getting better?” He side-eyes me, and I stop swinging.
Reaching over, I rest my hand on his knee, and he doesn’t shrug it off. “I’m so sorry.”
He pokes the middle of my hand. “I need you to be okay, Mom.”
“I’m trying.”
“I need you to try harder.”
“I will. Jo—your dad is helping. We’ll get through this. I promise.”
“You’re not gonna push him away, are you?” Refusing to look at me, Hunter traces the top of my fingers with his.
“No. Why would I do that?”
“You’ve been doing that to everyone.”
My heart clenches. “I know. I’m working on it. Do you need to talk to someone?”
“I already do.”
“Who?”
“My dad.”
Of course he does. Josh already said they talked a lot.
“I mean, besides him.”
“I talk to Deke, too. Sometimes. I’m doing okay. I just need you to be okay.”
“I am.”
Hunter nods just once as if he’s accepting my words at face value. “Good.”
“Is there anything else we need to talk about? That you want to tell me?” I squeeze his knee.
A deep blush suffuses my son’s cheeks as he kicks the heel of his boot into the mulch.
Oh. I know this look. It’s about a girl. We haven’t been down this road yet. He’s been too caught up in video games, friends, the club, and me.
“Who is she?” I test, keeping any judgment from my tone and my smile to myself. Because this is adorable. My son has a crush.
Peeking at me out of the corner of his eye, Hunter sighs long and hard before replying. “Tati.”
Ah. Yes. “She’s a sweet girl.”
Looking down at his feet, shoulders hunched forward, Hunter bobs his head. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”
“Have you talked to her much?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“She’s older than me and…” Hunter grumbles something under his breath, which I can’t make out. As if summoned by his admission alone, the young girl Bink has taken in, after being trafficked, walks up the street, with a little blonde girl hitched on her hip. I lift a hand in greeting.
“Hey, Tati. Hi, Leech.”
Playing it cool, Hunter refuses to acknowledge their presence as they wave back. Once they disappear into the clubhouse, Hunter releases a breath, and his shoulders relax.
I keep the commentary to myself.
Young love is not something I need to meddle in. I’ve got enough stuff on my plate, and he’s perfectly capable of wooing a girl if he wants, even if said girl is older than him. But… Who am I to judge? My husband is ten years younger than I am, and he has been more than capable of wooing me.
A long stretch of silence settles between us before Hunter gets off the swing and turns to me. He hitches his thumb at the clubhouse. “I’m gonna go. Unless you need me.”
I wave him off. “No. Go. Have fun. Just don’t leave the compound.”
“I won’t, Mom.”
Standing to hug my son, I wrap my arms around his middle, and he returns the gesture with a firm squeeze. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I watch him walk with purpose to the clubhouse, his muscles flexing beneath the cotton of his t-shirt.
It’s crazy, isn’t it, how fast they grow up?
It feels like just yesterday that Hunter was losing his teeth and putting them under his pillow for the tooth fairy. Now he’s a teenager with a crush.
Feeling lighter than I have in months, I walk around the compound in my checkered Vans, a graphic t-shirt, and shorts, which leads me into the attached estate and Bink’s front porch, where I find myself knocking.
As the prez’s old lady, she’s the person everyone looks to for guidance.
She’s also been a friend for years. What happened yesterday at Kit and Gunz’s house is on me—for not coping, for not working through shit.
I know wounds take time to heal, but I’ve been putting that off, ignoring the symptoms and pretending they don’t exist for over a year now.
I’ve avoided people and hurt those I love, especially Josh and Hunter.
While I can’t fix what happened to me, I can’t be a better mother, wife, or sister if I don’t take charge of my healing—whatever the hell that looks like.
Bink answers the door with a kind smile and her hair tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head. Without a word, she steps back and waves for me to enter.
With an awkward, closed-mouth smile, I nod my thanks and step indoors. The house smells of cologne and cinnamon as Bink gets us glasses of water, and we gather at her kitchen table, where Pretzel, her dog, lounges at her feet.
“You’re a sister now,” she says with a grin, sipping her water. “It’s official.”
“It is.”
“I heard White Boy took his brand.”
I nod. Yes. Yes, he did, by the fire pit behind the clubhouse.
He sat on a chair, legs spread, dick out, and took it on his inner thigh.
I was with him the entire time, along with his brothers.
A single hiss escaped his lips, and his neck turned into thick cords as he grit his teeth and took the pain.
It was a red, weepy mess this morning when we woke up together, but he assures me he’s got it handled.
Not sure what to say, given how awkward I’ve made everything as of late, I take a gulp of water, steel my shoulders, and pour my heart out on the table.
I tell Bink everything. Given her status in the club, she deserves to know the truth.
As a friend and sister, she needs to know.
I run through the rapes, Josh, Hunter, my nightmares, my attempted suicide, and the shop shootout.
We’re both hugging and sobbing like babies by the end.
When the front door opens, and in struts Big, he takes one look at us, shakes his head, blows out a breath in what looks like relief, then turns around and walks right back out.
Pulling away from Bink, I look her in the eye, and with snot running down our faces, we bust up laughing.
“Oh. He’s gonna tell White Boy,” she crows, grabbing her stomach.
“Your old man is a tattletale,” I cackle. Not that I care what he tells Josh.
“He totally is.” Bink dabs her eyes with the corner of her shirt.
A few minutes later, as we’re blowing our noses, Josh and Big enter through the front door to find us at the table.
Bink looks at me and we share a smile. Yes, her man is a total tattletale who is uncomfortable with feminine emotions.
“You didn’t need to get him,” I address Big.
The behemoth rolls his eyes and stares at his old lady.
Waving off his concern, she snorts. “I’m fine.”
“You were crying,” Big growls, running fingers through his long hair.
“We’re allowed to cry,” she volleys right back, with an edge of teasing in her voice.
Big’s grunt says he doesn’t like this. Josh, knowing how to handle emotions like a pro, smirks with his arms tucked across his chest as he leans against the nearest wall.
I take this as my cue to wrap it up here and leave them to their own devices. By the wrinkle between Big’s brow and his low growls, they’re gonna end up in the bedroom soon.
Getting up, I give Bink a quick hug and promise to talk again soon. I meet my husband by the front door, and just as we step onto the porch, Bink’s screech has us both laughing as we stroll, hand in hand, down the steps.
“I take it that went well?” he asks.
“It did. So did my talk with Hunter.”
“You seem happier, babe.”
We share a smile. “I am.”
Josh stops us in the middle of the road. Turning me to face him, he tips my chin up and brushes that delicious mouth across mine. My stomach swoops like a rollercoaster as he presses us together. His thickness against my belly has me gasping.
“You’re hard.”
On a low growl, Josh grips my ass. “You’re my wife.
Of course, I am.” He nips my bottom lip, and I melt.
Hands on his shoulders, tits pressed to his stomach, I stare at the man who completes me.
His eyes gleam in the sunlight with such adoration and lust. The smirk he flashes my way has my insides going molten.
I never knew life could feel like this.
“I love you, Josh.”
He slaps my ass before cupping both cheeks and giving them a solid squeeze. “And I love you far more, babe. Now, I need to get back to our room before I strip you naked in the street.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” I tease.
“Fuck. Stop bein’ so damn sexy.”
“But what about your dick? Isn’t it sore?”
“We’ll improvise… Are you sore?”
“Not really.”
“Good. ‘Cause I’m spending the rest of my day between your legs.”
“Josh.” I play slap his chest. “We can’t do that.”
He waggles his brows, and a devilish grin turns him from handsome to sexy in a flash. “Oh. Yeah. We can. Watch me.”
To fill some Neanderthal quota, my husband literally scoops me off the ground and throws me over his shoulder. I squeal in outrage as he rushes us to the clubhouse and spanks my ass anytime he wants, like he likes the feel. Which, of course, he does. But he shouldn’t be carrying me.
Oh. And all the blood rushing to my head. I don’t like it.
“Josh!” I pound his lower back.
“Shhh.”
“Put me down!”
“No. We’re almost there.” He rips open the back door of the clubhouse.
“Josh!”
“Fuck!” Sliding me down his front, Josh sets me onto my feet just inside the hallway.
I stumble against the wall and take big gulps of air.
Not giving me a chance to orient myself, my husband attacks.
Shoving my shorts to the ground, he drops to his knees, throws my leg over his shoulder, and feasts like his life depends on it.
I try to shove his head away, but his hold on my ass and his face in my pussy wilts my outrage and replaces it with need.
Need for him. To come. To connect. Throwing caution to the wind, I shove my husband’s face against my center.
When I hear the delicious rip of his zipper and his groans as he devours me, I know he’s right there with me, about to get off.
And I give in.
To lust.
To love.
To a new life.
For the first time in my life, I’m free.
The End
Or is it?